The Awakened Woman

by Tererai Trent

  This book harnesses all the lessons and stories I’ve learned in my own life and in my experiences as an internationally recognized voice in women’s empowerment; it will give you the tools to name and manifest your sacred dreams. Weaving indigenous wisdom from my land and people with contemporary research, I hope to bring a unifying and expansive perspective to what it means to become an awakened woman in our modern times.

  Now more than ever, when we as a global community face complex problems too big for easy solutions, the world needs the vision, creativity, and voice of the women of the world. We can no longer afford to live our lives cut off from our sacred and collective purpose. The world needs a cadre of awakened women—women in touch with the divine in them, women empowered by their femininity, women cultivating their sacred dreams and by doing so nurturing the sacred purpose in all women.

  In the chapters that follow, we’ll go step-by-step, hand in hand to awaken your sacred dream, spreading out into the fullness of your body, mind, and spirit; proclaiming your worth and your dignity, healing your soul wounds, and empowering you to dream boldly again.

  To get the most out of the stories, wisdom, and rituals in this book, I recommend starting a sacred dreams journal in which to chart your insights and growth along the way. You may even want to collaborate with friends or create a reading circle. I have outlined ways of doing this at the end of the book, “Creating Dream Circles of Sacred Sahwira Sisterhood.”

  I also want to mention that each chapter ends with a “Sacred Ritual” for you to practice on your journey to achieve your dreams. Why ritual? Because rituals give strength and direction to a journey. They are what give meaning to an unpredictable world and its forces of silencing. They are the actions we need to walk the path to our dreams with confidence, knowing we are guided by something bigger than we are. Many religions, tribes, and families have their own faith rituals, which they practice without fail to provide meaning to their existence.

  This is also true among my Korekore people, for whom rituals are the sacred actions that bind our collective power, grounding our ancient connections to earth and life wisdom. They guide us in how we treat the earth and express our gratitude for the sources of our healing and well-being. My grandmother always reminded her grandchildren that while rituals guide us in achieving our dreams, we should not forget that rituals are the highest platform from which to show our gratitude.

  Rituals have been used since the days of the cave dwellers. And my people believe they carry and deliver profound messages from our ancestors and the universe. They not only give meaning to our lives here on earth, but also connect us to the mysteries of the world that the human mind has yet to understand. I live my very life by rituals in honor of those connections. Every breath and action I take is guided by these rituals, as they help me celebrate the joys of my existence while providing me with a mirror through which I can understand loss, sorrow, and my healing. They need to be practiced with humility—they are that important. And you are that important. You have the power to practice rituals that will strengthen your belief in yourself and your sacred dreams.

  Together, through a mix of indigenous wisdom rooted in sacred experience and generations of lives, modern research, and sacred rituals, we will walk the path to your sacred dreams, a path of joy and discovery as you make your way to your fulfilled self. With each page, each story, each question, I call you to take action: to find your great purpose, reclaim your voice, embrace your body’s yearnings, nurture your spirit, and claim your place among the sisterhood of sacred dreamers.

  This sacred dream journey is the path of the awakened woman, my sisters. Your dreams are a place where the divine resides. In order to awaken, you must unearth them, nourish them, and walk toward them in body and soul. Once awakened, you embody the divine, capable of healing your own soul and the heart of the world.

  1

  FIND YOUR GREAT HUNGER: THE CALL TO AWAKEN

  We cannot expect to change what’s in the world unless we first awaken what lies deeply within.

  —TERERAI TRENT

  We sit barefoot and cross-legged around an open fire. My mother, my grandmothers, my aunts, and all the women and girls of my village are there. The men and boys, who eat separately, have already been given the food we prepared for them. Now, free to say the things we dare not say in the presence of men, free to be ourselves and not simply wives or daughters, we pass around dishes of sadza, cornmeal, and the vegetable relishes each of us has brought, and we eat.

  Later, after our bellies are full, we begin shelling groundnuts. The moon is round, casting a cool, shimmery halo of light down upon our circle of women while the flames of the fire brighten our faces and bodies with warmth from below. The soil below us is reddish and chalky. I feel it caked on my feet and under my fingernails. A cool night breeze rustles the bulrushes in the fields surrounding our circle.

  The day had been long, like many others. Up at sunrise to bring the cattle out to graze. I’d returned at midday to milk the cows, and then it was back out into the fields until dusk, when I’d returned home, hungry and weary. But now the sun has set, and I am warm from the food and fire with the moon rising high in the vast night sky.

  Tonight there are no sounds of gunfire from those who are fighting for our independence, or from the white minority who have ruled since the late nineteenth century. And so we women and girls sit, muscles and tongues loose in the comfort of our togetherness, and, as my people have done for generations, we sing songs and tell stories. As the stories warm our hearts we momentarily forget our pain, our struggles, and the impending danger of war. We are enshrined in a circle of healing.

  On this night, my grandmother tells a story that was to become part of my psyche even then as a young girl, binding itself to me at the deepest cellular and spiritual level of my being. “The indigenous hunter-gatherer people of Southern Africa from the Kalahari Desert,” my grandmother begins, and I nestle the weight of my hips and thighs down deeper into the earth and lean closer to her in anticipation of her tale. “They believe that there is more to life than the material world,” she continues. “The men and women there describe two kinds of hunger: the Little Hunger and the Great Hunger.”

  In the storytelling tradition of my people, stories were not told only once, but were repeated often. New details emerged with each telling and listeners caught different insights as they met old stories as different selves. The story of the Great Hunger, which I heard many different times from many different tellers, grew in me until there was no separation between the story and me. It forever ebbs and flows in my being.

  “In my village,” my grandmother says, her voice radiating out into the circle, “two sons of a very powerful man were given money to buy the best clothes and toys. Unlike many, their household could also afford plenty of delicious food. Despite a lavish lifestyle, the boys always demanded more money to satisfy their addiction to drugs and alcohol.

  “One day, the father asked community elders to help him figure out how to make his sons behave more responsibly, more like other teens in the village.

  “The elders determined that the boys were unhappy because they hungered for meaning in their lives. Surprised, the father said, ‘But my sons are very happy! I make sure they have everything they want.’ The elders pointed out that ‘wants’ are based on ego and greed, not on needs. When not met, a need may result in inequality, poverty, or oppression. ‘Wants,’ on the other hand, are something we, as human beings, consciously desire, but if ‘wants’ are not met, life still goes on without negative consequences. ‘But I also give my children money so they can meet their needs and can feel good about themselves,’ said the rich man.”

  A few of the women edge toward the embers of fire, stocking the wood to increase both the flame and warmth. My grandmother waits a few moments as the women go about their tending, and then she begins again, “The elders pointed out that money does not create happiness, nor does it build self-esteem. Responsible children are
created with empathy, love, and respect, not by giving them stuff. It doesn’t nurture our children to flood them with money and expensive gifts that we equate as the expression of a good life. Unfortunately, our wants are often driven by Little Hungers that create a false sense of self.”

  My grandmother pauses for our attention as she prepares to conclude her tale, although she does not need to do so, for we are enraptured. None of us wants to let Chikara,I the Little Hunger, entrap us in its grip and consume us. We sit in anticipation, rocking from side to side on our hips as the story works its way into our skin and down deep into the marrow of our bones. As my grandmother would say, “A story is like a dress, it can either fit perfectly, well defining the contours of our body, or it can have some parts that mismatch those contours, leaving one unhappy.” It is up to us, the listeners, to find the best parts to wear, to find what best resonates with the soul. In the quiet between her words, we were each trying to find the part of the story that we can wear for life.

  “The rich man was silent,” she finally said. “He had never thought about ‘needs and wants’ or happiness in this way. He was advised to send his children to work with others in the community, to have them repair old homes, mentor orphans, to contribute to the welfare of their neighbors. So the boys went to work.

  “Not long after, they began to receive compliments for their contributions. They soon began organizing community services and rallying other youths to rebuild the community school. Once their hunger to do good was awakened, these two boys never looked back.” The listeners nod and call out “Amen” or let out a trilling cry in response to this tale. We are thrilled by the boys’ transformation, longing for the Great Hunger to be awakened in us as well.

  My mother, Shamiso, or Grandma-Gogo as the children called her, would say, “Ndi Chikara akubata”—“Like a magnet, forever we remain trapped in Little Hunger’s grip and become its slave, unless we reflect on the meaning of life’s purpose.” The Little Hunger can never be satisfied. It always demands more, leaving us exhausted as we try to cope with its unending desires and demands. We become unhappy, vulnerable to risk, and still, we want more. Little Hunger not only leads to dissatisfaction, it also makes us envious, competitive, ungrateful, and anxious. Many unhappy lives and homes are filled with the havoc and damage caused by Little Hunger.

  But the Great Hunger—the greatest of all pangs—is the hunger for a life with meaning. The Great Hunger is liberating and energizing; it enables us to move beyond immediate gratification and toward fulfillment. The Great Hunger inspires us, leading us to discover new ways to grow, give, and help others. If you tap into the Great Hunger, you will awaken your sacred dream. With the awakened consciousness of a sacred dreamer, you will come to know yourself as a part of the larger circle of woman, the sacred sisterhood. Your whole life will be a ritual in the service of this great purpose, this togetherness.

  My sacred sisters, regardless of our differences, perhaps shaped by class, race, gender identity, and geography, ultimately there is one thing that makes human beings profoundly fulfilled—it is life with meaning.

  Unfortunately, the reality of living a contented and fulfilled life is elusive to many of us. Today we live in a society driven by the Little Hungers that overshadow our true happiness and stifle our self-esteem. The voices that define, discourage, and silence us also propel us toward the “wants” of life that are shaped by the Little Hungers rather than the “needs,” which are shaped by the Great Hunger. Want status, want wealth, want fame, want beauty, want “likes” and “followers” and “retweets.” Oh, my dear sisters, we must gather the strength to go deeper than that.

  What is it that you are truly hungry for?

  What does your soul need?

  There is a deeper hunger that lies within us, waiting to be discovered. It is the innate, human hunger to support one another, though our material desires often mask it. Your task is to listen for the stirring of an insatiable hunger begging you to connect to the world in a new way and to align your dreams with this yearning. The power of the Great Hunger leads us to a different path, a path of the true, authentic self. Once we find our Great Hunger, then the voices that silence us, the names that others use to define us, and the fears that lurk in dark corners, become diminished—and an electrical surge of purpose fills us. Our Great Hunger becomes the source of our calling.

  You will know you’ve found that place when you are aligned with a purpose that makes you come alive, when you feel harmony between your Great Hunger and the needs of others. When we find this place of deep contentment where the Great Hunger resides, then we have awakened our sacred dream and we find abundance and great joy.

  I am not saying that once we find our Great Hunger all becomes well. We need healing and we must do the hard work of nurturing our positive traits—resilience, courage, empathy, compassion, loyalty, conscientiousness, and openness. In turn, these traits will nourish us in times of doubt and distress. Tapping into your Great Hunger is not the end of our healing, it is the beginning—the beginning of our collective waking up.

  It can be so easy to wear other people’s faces: the face of the “committed to commitment” wife, regardless of her unhappiness; the face of the selfless mother, stifling her own dreams; the face of the impoverished “Third World” victim, weighed down by words and terms others put on her with no awareness of her true self; and on and on. What we need more than anything is to feel exuberantly comfortable wearing the face of our true, authentic selves, and this has major consequences for our ability to contribute to the world.

  When we are not deeply tapped into our authentic selves, we become divided from ourselves, and as a result, we grow to be divided from one another, from our sacred purpose, and from the world. The world is depending on you to name your Great Hunger, for indeed, awakening to your sacred purpose is a radical, social act. It is time to let your sacred purpose come forth. Like a river flowing, let your Great Hunger pour from you and let it flood the world.

  Hear it from the echoes of my own silencing and how that changed once I found my Great Hunger. I can tell you this: without a burning desire to change the trajectory of my life and move toward a purposeful life, I would still be leading an unfulfilled life in my village.

  Come sit beside me, dear sister. Smell the burning wood, feel the relief of an evening breeze on your skin after a long day of toil. Despite our struggles, the danger in our environment, and the fear shaped by years of stifling our true selves, let us come and be one in this collective circle of sisterhood. Let us loosen any restrictions on our feminine energy and band together with greater focus. Let us look up at the stars together as the sound of women’s laughter dances across the flames. Let us continue this ritual of storytelling that not only allows us to express our joys and sorrows but also awakens the call of our souls.

  It is our turn now to be part of the circle, you and me, in our sacred space. May this ritual make us lean in close, strengthening our voices as we build stronger alliances of interlinked networks that know no geographic, racial, ethnic, or economic division. The storytelling ritual will make us celebrate each other, wipe each other’s tears, and bring healing to our communities and the world at large.

  Let me initiate you into the community of awakened dreamers, the sacred sisterhood. Let us discover and call out your sacred dream, your Great Hunger, knowing that your sisters, hand in hand, are holding you forth.

  SACRED RITUAL FOR FINDING YOUR GREAT HUNGER

  The most powerful practice for finding your Great Hunger is to ask yourself this simple question: What breaks my heart?

  Let this question become like a heartbeat: as you wash dishes, rock your child to sleep, commute to work, walk the dog, and breathe in and out, allow this question to pulse within you.

  It is not a once and done thing, this Great Hunger of yours, and it is not only for the oppressed and downtrodden. You don’t have to feel sad or unfulfilled to have Great Hunger, although I have found that it often most loudl
y asserts itself during difficult times. Perhaps this is because when life is most challenging it is obvious that we need healing and purpose. But even those of you who may have achieved every goal you ever set for yourself, or found every happiness you ever imagined, have a Great Hunger. As long as there is a need for your voice and talents, the hunger persists.

  When you watch the news or when you think about the state of the world today: What breaks your heart?

  Forever, your Great Hunger continues to call you to become the person you were always meant to be, to reach your full potential, and to heal yourself by caring for your community, even if you’re not sure exactly who that person is or how to do it. For me, my desire for an education stemmed from my belief that all the girls in my village, including me, were capable of learning and contributing equally with boys. I had no idea what my life would look like if I followed my Great Hunger, all I knew was the shape of its longing.

  You don’t have to start big. Just ask yourself: What breaks my heart?

  I shared this practice with three friends. One immediately said, “I feel heartbroken when I hear of puppies being abused. I feel I can contribute to the well-being of these animals.” She quickly mobilized to become a foster home for abused dogs, the ones who rarely get adopted from shelters. Today she helps heal, train, and find good homes for them.

  Another said, “My heart hurts when I hear of parents who are cheated by unscrupulous agents when they try to adopt children from foreign countries, but don’t know what to do about it. Their stories and pain break my heart. I find myself not sleeping thinking about each situation. I have been there and I’m sure I can help.”

  The third friend said, “But I don’t feel at all silenced or disempowered. I feel I have everything I need and do everything I can.” I asked her if she would explore the question anyway. A few days later she called me, stunned and amazed. “I worry about a lot of issues these days, but the answer that came up again and again in response to this question is the Syrian refugee crisis,” she said. “That is what most breaks my heart right now. But as soon as I had the thought,” she continued, “I felt, well, there’s nothing I can do. So I prayed and held it in my mind, not really knowing what to do.”